


His Word

by WithExtraScribbles



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, You can read this as platonic or queerplatonic if you so choose, non-traditional hanahaki disease
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:15:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithExtraScribbles/pseuds/WithExtraScribbles
Summary: Nobody mentions the fight between Luffy and Zoro. Zoro both expects them to and doesn’t. He keeps glancing Luffy’s way before he can help himself, looking for clues, but his gaze is not answered.He doesn’t talk to Luffy because there isn’t anything he can say. The unsaid words leave a bad taste in his mouth. His word, his promise, gone sour.-After the events of whisky peak, Zoro starts to feel unwell.
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy & Roronoa Zoro, Nico Robin & Roronoa Zoro, Roronoa Zoro & Tony Tony Chopper
Comments: 14
Kudos: 67





	His Word

**Author's Note:**

> Should I be picking up another WIP? No. But here I am, doing it anyway! I haven't been feeling good lately and what do we do when we don't feel good? Take care of ourselves? No, we write stuff like this. I don't think I've done the idea justice owing to not being on top form in life. But hopefully I've done enough that it's as enjoyable to read as it was to write <3
> 
> I've seen several great hanahaki fics in this fandom and in BNHA and I've written one myself for Durarara, but I've been really stuck on the idea of a hanahaki fic where the love referenced is not romantic. I have also been wanting there to be some kind of repercussions for the Whisky Peak fight between Zoro and Luffy. So why not combine the two!
> 
> Warnings: there will be descriptions of illness in this fic and it does include vomiting towards the end of this chapter. If that bothers you, skip the section which begins with 'Robin is on watch...' Also, poor Zoro develops some self-esteem issues during this fic so if this is a thing that concerns you, I would avoid reading. Note that his views on illness do not reflect my own.

It starts with a bad taste in his mouth. Zoro doesn’t think anything of it at first. In fact, he tries not to. It isn’t too difficult – fleeing Whisky Peak and evading Baroque Works takes priority. They might have started to assign semi-official roles to each member of the crew but they are still a small crew. There is always plenty to be done and not always enough hands to do it. And when there is nothing to do, there is always sleep.

Sleep does not come easily to him. His misunderstanding with Luffy has been cleared up by Nami and Vivi. Luffy has reverted immediately back to the easy familiarity they have had since the moment the swordsman agreed to be on his crew. There are no hard feelings between them. Like the fight between them never happened.

All it took was a well placed fist and a few choice words from Nami and it was all over. From _Nami_. Not from him.

Luffy trusted Nami’s judgement. Or perhaps he simply didn’t question her. It doesn’t matter, because Luffy hadn’t trusted his.

It was easy in the moment. A complex and dangerous situation was unfolding all around them. Nami’s barked orders gave him focus. All his rage and hurt and other ugly feelings that Sensei had taught him never to fight for could be pushed aside, transformed into restless energy that drove him forwards. And if he was a little too restless, a little too harsh, a little too reckless, then there were no repercussions. Just like there will be repercussions of the disagreement between captain and first crew member.

(He isn’t the first mate. He can’t be the first mate. Even if he was recruited first. Even if he has been right there at Luffy’s side for all this time. Even if he has given Luffy his word, intertwined their dreams together because that is what a first mate would do for his captain… It is not enough.)

It is fine. He is fine. It is all going to be fine.

Luffy welcomes Vivi onto their ship. Even though the princess is grieving, Luffy’s pirate crew is lively, bright and friendly. The cook insists upon spoiling the princess along with Nami, and they set off on their next adventure for Vivi’s sake.

Nobody mentions the fight between Luffy and Zoro. Zoro both expects them to and doesn’t. He keeps glancing Luffy’s way before he can help himself, looking for clues, but his gaze is not answered.

He doesn’t talk to Luffy because there isn’t anything he can say. The unsaid words leave a bad taste in his mouth. His word, his promise, gone sour.

-

It isn’t until Alabasta that he starts to cough. It’s a pathetic thing, a constant tickle in the back of his throat. Irritating. Weak.

(Like he was on Little Garden. Some fighter, some protector. Placing his faith in his captain while two women slowly solidified beside him.

Luffy hadn’t been able to place his faith in him.

The scars on his legs serve as a reminder. At this point, the wax has long gone. Zoro still feels the weight of it in his chest.

No amount of training seems to ease it. Not even the frozen waters of Drum Island could numb it back to nothing. Perhaps that’s why he is in this mess now.)

Hiding it from the crew is simple enough. A subtle cough into the crook of his elbow here. A mock sip of water he probably needs but isn’t going to take from the others there. Pulling Chopper and carrying Usopp are responsibilities that both help and hinder him.

Of course, Chopper is the first to notice. The little reindeer inserts himself into Zoro’s lap as he rests a little bit away from their campfire.

“You need to stay warm, Zoro,” he says.

“I’m fine,” says Zoro. The word sticks in his throat and he turns sharply, shoving Chopper to the side to avoid coughing over him.

What timing. His body is turning against him. Traitor.

Chopper frowns up at him. “I’m not surprised you caught a cold after Drum Island. You were lucky not to get frostbite or hypothermia or-”

“I’m fine, Chopper,” Zoro insists. “It’s just all this dust.”

Zoro hasn’t known Chopper for very long but even so, it is obvious that the little doctor does not believe him. He drops the look he is giving Zoro and starts searching through his bag.

“Normally, I would suggest you stay away from the everyone else so it doesn’t spread but… it gets really cold here at nights.”

A thermometer emerges from Chopper’s bag.

Before anybody else can take note of it, Zoro pushes Chopper’s hand, still holding the thermometer, back into the bag. “It’s fine, Chopper,” he says, in a tone that comes out just a little bit too sharp. “I’m fine.”

Chopper’s already large eyes widen. Cutting off his reply before it can begin, Zoro leans in a little closer and drops his voice to barely above a whisper. “Listen, if I _have_ caught a cold, _which I haven’t_ , the crew can’t afford for me to be sick right now. Vivi needs us all at our best.”

Chopper at least has the decency to lower his voice too. “Isn’t that all the more reason for me to treat you, Zoro? I’m the ship’s doctor. It’s my job.”

Zoro pointedly avoids meeting Chopper’s gaze. “You can’t cure a cold anyway so just… let it drop. It’s only dust.”

At this, the doctor falls silent.

“I will one day. I’m going to cure _everything_.”

Feeling that the words are not really meant for him, Zoro pats the top of his hat. It seems to bring Chopper back to himself.

“Of course you will, someday.” He steals a look at Luffy, who is draped over Usopp by the fire. His captain’s laughter seems to warm the frigid air around them. “On this crew, the captain would expect nothing less.”

A sharp pain spasms out from his chest, Zoro’s sudden intake of breath hitching in his throat. It turns into a larger cough that he muffles with the clothes that Vivi insisted they wear.

Chopper settles back into his lap, pressing their foreheads together before Zoro can recover and avoid it. He pulls back moments later with a frown.

“Well, you don’t seem to have a fever. But you have to drink plenty of fluids. And tell me if it gets any worse. And – and I’m sleeping with you tonight so you keep warm.”

Zoro sighs.

That night, the weight that settled in his chest after Little Garden seems a little lighter.

-

The cough does not improve. If anything, it becomes more persistent. His chest feels constantly tight with the effort of regulating his breathing so he doesn’t cough in order to avoid alerting Chopper to his plight and reopening the many half-healed wounds across his chest. To keep his secret, he is forced to keep training away from the crew.

It isn’t good training. Somehow, his sudden lack of physical strength makes the coughing hurt his chest even more. Making the switch from physical training to meditation and focus only serves to make the dull ache worse. But this is necessary training too, he tells himself. If he can understand the rhythm of all things, he will be able cut anything he needs to. And after that fight with Mr 1, he is close, closer than he’s ever been.

Until he can draw out that level of focus all of the time, he can’t really say he has grown stronger. And since he can’t focus because of his stupid cough, he can’t say he’s grown stronger at all.

By the third day after their win in Alabasta, Zoro’s irritation with at all begins to overpower his willpower and he takes to an odd combination of both strength training with boulders and an attempt at meditation. Weirdly, the familiar feeling of being weighed down does help to bring focus.

Unfortunately, it also makes him throw the boulder when he’s surprised by a sudden need to cough. And that tears the stitches Chopper has given him. And worse, his panted breaths in afterwards bring the entire desert into his throat and make him want to cough even more. He runs out of water alarmingly quickly.

By the time he makes it back to the room where Luffy and the others should be, his throat his parched and he’s more exhausted that he has any right to be. So much so that he’s taken off guard by the sight of Luffy in his straw hat, sitting cross legged on the bed.

“Oh, Luffy, you woke up.”

The words come out surprisingly clearly. He resists the urge to clear his throat. Water, he needs water. But he finds himself unable to look away from Luffy, eyes following the line of dressings up towards the captain’s face, where a wide grin begins to grow.

“Oh Zoro, long time no see! Long time no see?”

Luffy goes straight from joy to confusion but the way he says Zoro’s name lingers. Joy, the almost surprised joy that Luffy has whenever anything interesting happens to him, directed towards Zoro this time. Though he supposes that after three days of sleep, anyone’s appearance would be interesting.

The tickle begins to build again in his throat. Looking away, Zoro spots the jug of water and makes a beeline towards it.

Chopper intercepts him. “Ahhh, Zoro! You went out training again, didn’t you?

Luffy is still looking at him. Vivi and Usopp are looking at him too. Chopper has put on his best ‘serious doctor’ face and staring him down but his eyes are thankfully trained on Zoro’s face.

Zoro selects a glass and lifts the jug to pour it, keeping his facial expression as neutral as possible. He wills his arm not to shake where overdid it (even though he didn’t overdo it – he doesn’t know why he feels so weak) and his clothing not to slip to expose his messed up stitches.

“What?” he says, nonplussed. “It’s my business, right?”

Chopper becomes an angry ball of fur in the corner of his eye. “No means no, Zoro! I’m the ship’s doctor so you have to listen to me!”

Zoro lifts the glass to his lips, trying not to revel in the feeling of the cool water soothing his throat too openly. It must expose some of his chest because Chopper suddenly adds, “And don’t take your bandages off either!”

“It’s hard to move with them,” Zoro replies.

And it’s true. It is. But they also constrict him so when he coughs, it adds to the horrible feeling of not being able to fully catch his breath. He feels restrained in them. They don’t stop the stitches tearing anyway and his clothes soak up any blood well enough.

“So don’t move!” Chopper snaps.

Zoro is about to ask how he’s supposed to train if he’s not allowed to move. But Luffy tilts his head to the side curiously, his dark eyes seemingly boring into Zoro’s soul. For all that Luffy seems to live in his own Luffyland for a majority of the time, he has these moments of exceptional clarity and perceptiveness. Having those eyes on him, seeing the cogs turning in his captain’s mind, unsettles Zoro.

“Long time… no see?” repeats Luffy, thoughtfully.

(Does he see? Can he tell?

Zoro is trying to keep his word. He did not lose against Daz Bones. He is not winning against himself.

Is he beginning to live up to Luffy’s expectations? He is not living up to his own.)

The tickle returns. He pours himself another glass, chugs it like a cheap ale, and starts to cough as some of it goes down the wrong way, spraying half his last mouthful back into the glass.

“Ahh, Zoro!” cries Chopper in a momentary panic, before reason compels him to shift into his larger form and pat Zoro on the back, angling his head downwards.

Zoro tries not to flinch away from it as he greedily gulps in air, giving the traitorous glass a glare. The doctor does not notice Zoro’s discomfort. He is too busy noticing Zoro’s damage from his new, higher vantage point.

“You ripped your stitches!” he accuses.

“Cover your damn mouth when you cough,” snaps Sanji, holding his cigarette away from his mouth. He wipes his cheek theatrically, even though Zoro is pretty sure he was nowhere near him.

“I did,” Zoro hisses, giving another little cough into his elbow. “And I didn’t cough – I choked.”

“Well learn to drink like a normal person, mossbrain. Didn’t they have cups in whatever mossy cave you crawled out of?” gripes Sanji, getting out another cigarette. “Beverages are supposed to be savoured, not poured down the throat.”

The cook really knows how to push his buttons. Stifling another cough, he takes a step forward, which is partially blocked by Chopper, who is still trying to take a look at his reopened gunshot wound.

“Water’s not a beverage,” he says to the cook, in the place of hitting him

“Hah?” says Sanji, half out of his seat.

“Mr. Bushido isn’t wrong,” Vivi pipes up. “A beverage is any drink other than water.”

Just the sound of her voice drains all of the tension from Sanji’s body. He turns towards her immediately with admiration in his eyes and Zoro lifts his glass back up to his lips.

“If it has Zoro’s spit in it, is it now a beverage?” asks Luffy.

Nami turns to him then. “Ew, Zoro, gross. Why would you drink that?”

Zoro shrugs. Because his throat hurts? Because if he keeps drinking water then he won’t need to cough? Because Chopper is staring at his chest in full doctor mode and Luffy is looking at him oddly and he doesn’t want either of them to notice anything off about him?

“It’s my spit. I was going to swallow it anyway.”

“Gross,” says Nami.

“There are ladies present, shitty swordsman,” says Sanji, scandalised.

“So? They’ve both watched Luffy drool in his sleep for three days,” says Zoro, more focussed on Chopper, who is now rummaging through his bag.

“Three days? Did I sleep for three whole days?” echoes Luffy, eyes wide. “I’ve missed fifteen meals! Sanji, food! Food, Sanji!”

“How can you calculate that so quickly when it comes to food?” says Nami.

Usopp replied, “On top of that, according to his calculations, there are five meals in a day.”

Vivi giggles. The princess looks as though her shoulders have never been lighter as they shake under her laughter. “I’ll make sure there is a wonderful dinner soon,” she says and the warmth in her voice almost eclipses the cold of whatever Chopper has just pressed on Zoro’s shoulder without warning.

“I did promise a feast, after all.”

“Feast!” Luffy cheers.

With the prospect of food, everyone’s attention is removed from Zoro and the now common occurrence of Chopper fixing up his wounds. The chatting of the crew fills the air and the addition of Luffy’s voice completes a scene that has been lacking over these past few days.

Zoro manages to avoid coughing again and allows Chopper to believe that his stitches got this way through training. The water incident is brushed off as choking. And if Chopper remembers his cough from their time in the desert, then he must think that the illness has run its course because he neither mentions anything nor hints it in the way he treats him.

When a sudden fit of coughing overtakes him at dinner, he manages to play it off as choking again – this time on meat. An appalled Luffy pats him on the back with entirely too much force, making him cough hard enough to spit up an actual piece of chewed meat onto the table.

Apparently, popping it back into his mouth angers Nami too and disgusts their hosts. Luffy only laughs.

Zoro doesn’t feel quite so hungry after that but he eats enough to give his body the strength it needs to heal (whether he deserves it or not) and when they leave they leave that night, he forces himself to give as much effort as he would if he was at full strength.

(Except he doesn’t. He isn’t.

He’s beginning to slip.)

-

Robin is on watch when he takes a turn for the worse. She is the last person he would have wanted to be there; whatever her combat capabilities or skills might be, Zoro does not fully trust that those belong to their crew yet.

(But Luffy does. Luffy insists he is a good judge of character. If Luffy thinks Robin is good then she has to be good. He has decided and the captain’s word is final.

If Zoro can’t take him at it then perhaps that is one more reason he is trusted less than kindly looking strangers offering food.

What does Zoro offer that Luffy does not already have?)

He wakes gasping for breath. _An attack? A nightmare?_ Tension coils like a spring through his body, instinct screaming _move, move, move._ But his is the only panicked panting amidst a sea of snores.

So why is he awake?

His chest seizes, something rising in the back of his throat. He can’t breathe. That’s why. Panic seizes him then. He stumbles to his feet, trying to quietly clear his throat of whatever is stuck in it. His stomach rolls with the movement of the ship.

Desperately, he claws his way up onto the deck, some detached piece of his mind fervently hoping that he hasn’t just woken everybody else, thinking he can pass this off as a sudden need to relieve himself if anybody questions it.

(But nobody will unless he keeps them awake.)

He only makes it as far as the rail before the violent coughs begin to explode from him. He coughs until his ears ring, sparks and blackness alternating in front of his eyes. His body hangs limply from the rail like Luffy had when he gripped the bars in Crocodile’s cell, boneless.

It hits him with the next hacking cough - he is actually going to pass out. He is going to pass out and suffocate. He is going to break his promise to Kuina, to Luffy, to himself (though that is far less important). Taken down by some stupid cough he picked up from being cold or breathing too much dust or just not being good enough to fight off a disease.

The next cough brings something up into the back of his throat. He gags as it rises, vomiting over the rail and into the water. His stomach churns.

His next breath in burns his tortured throat even though the night air is cool. He sucks it in greedily like a dying man receiving water in a desert.

“Swordsman-san,” says the voice he does not want to hear. “Are you alright?”

There is concern in it, he thought, but also something else. He doesn’t know Nico Robin, can’t read her well, wants her to leave him alone but he no longer has any energy left in his body.

(He’s helpless.

She could snap his neck if she wanted with those disembodied hands. He should be confident he can take care of her. But he’s left his swords in the men’s room.

He’s careless too.

Some swordsman. Some right hand.)

Something solid rises in his throat along with the momentary panic at being discovered. He turns back over the rail, a harsh cough expelling something that might have been dinner into the water. He spits the taste away, manners be damned.

“Would you like some water?”

Robin is holding out a glass of water. He wonders briefly how she got it, when she got it, how long that means he must have been here. He does. He wants the water but not from her. He thinks that if he drinks it, he might be sick again.

“I’m fine,” he growls. His throat tickles. _Not again._

She extends the hand offering the water towards him, an unreadable expression on her face. Zoro takes it this time, just beginning to chug it when Robin’s voice, sharper than usual, stops him.

“Slowly. Take little sips so you won’t vomit again.”

He glowers up at her. “I’m fine.”

“Even the strongest of us can succumb to illness, Swordsman-san,” she says, surprisingly gently.

He downs the water without thinking. His stomach rolls, almost proving Robin right and him wrong. His legs no longer want to hold him up and he sags against the rail, knees falling inwards and bracing themselves against each other.

“I’m not sick,” he says.

Robin raises an eyebrow.

Suddenly, he hates her piercing blue eyes and the way they seem to see through everything. Irrational anger overtakes him and it is irrational because Robin is on this crew now and Luffy has told them to accept her. If Zoro hasn’t then it’s his problem, his fault. He’s failed once again to be what the captain needs him to be. But that’s not Robin’s fault.

None of it is.

Still, he needs her to know he isn’t weak. He needs her to know that he’s the ship’s swordsman. He is their protector. And he will do anything, be anything, to become the world’s greatest swordsman, to become someone worthy of this crew. To keep all of them safe. To make Luffy Pirate King.

He gave Luffy his word. Twice.

(“Your word is the most powerful thing that you can give,” he recalls Koushiro saying to him once. “Once you have given it, you cannot go back on it. It cannot be broken. If you do, if it is, then it immediately becomes worthless. That is what it means to have honour.”)

And twice now, he has broken it.

He feels sick.

“I’m not sick,” he repeats. “ It’s just… the food we got from Alabasta. The bananawani. Didn’t agree.”

He turns away from her, breathing in slowly through his nose. It is not strictly a lie. Sanji had told them he wouldn’t serve the banana part of the bananawani to them. He said that it was not supposed to be eaten. But Luffy had been so excited for the prospect of the mystery food that even though the cook had a reasonable point about not inviting an upset stomach for the sake of a tough, bitter bit of not-quite-meat, Zoro hadn’t been able to refuse the bananawani banana that was offered to him.

Not when the moment he had sounded even vaguely like he was taking Luffy’s side on this, that dazzlingly bright grin had been flashed in his direction. For a brief and brilliant moment, sitting side by side with Luffy, taking a bite out of the strangest textured and most bitter item either of them had ever eaten, all of the weight of the past few islands had lifted off of him.

And it helped very much both of them managed to avoid spitting it out. Luffy pulled faces the entire time but stuffed the rest of it into his mouth and swallowed. Sanji’s expression had been priceless. Even though the bitter taste stuck to the roof of Zoro’s mouth and rose back up into his nose when he breathed, he hadn’t felt like he needed to cough.

“I hope you two don’t waste the good food that I cooked you after that,” Sanji had said, lighting up a cigarette and walking away.

“I never waste food!” Luffy had called, bounding after him. “Hey, Sanji, I’m still hungry! When’s dinner?”

They had both outdone themselves at dinner: Luffy out of the usual ravenous hunger, Zoro purely to show the cook how wrong he was about the strength of his stomach.

(Even if he wasn’t.)

Robin presses her hand to his forehead.

Zoro instantly flinches, reeling backwards. The sudden motion mixed with his sudden sharp breath brings back the need to cough. He leans back over the rail, chest and stomach heaving with the effort of not coughing. He doesn’t need to. He can breathe just fine.

“I apologise,” says Robin. “It was not my intention to startle you.”

“Don’t touch me,” Zoro hisses through gritted teeth.

Robin’s hand retracts. “Of course. Should I get-“

Zoro doesn’t know if she’s going to say Chopper or more water but he cuts of off before she can say anything; he doesn’t need anything from her. “Don’t. You’re on watch. You should be up there.”

“Would you like me to help you-“

“No,” he practically growls. “I’m fine.”

Robin gives him a long look. For a moment, he thinks it’s a surprisingly sad look. But the moment passes. She turns away from him and takes a step back towards her post. Then pauses, looking over her shoulder.

“If you need me or you change your mind, just call. You don’t need to be loud enough to wake the rest of the crew… I have very good hearing.”

There is something pointed about her expression and the last sentence she speaks but Zoro’s relief that she’s finally moving away eclipses his wariness and weariness overtakes all else.

Once he’s confident that Robin is not looking directly at him, he stumbles to the bathroom. He goes to draw the curtain to act as a barrier for prying eyes, only to realise that his right one is sticky where he had coughed into it earlier. With a grimace, he closes the curtain with his clean hand and heads to the sink, hoping that someone drew water for the night.

His own face makes him pause. Dark shadows are beginning to spread under his eyes. There is a thin sheen of sweat over his skin. _Shit_ , he looks terrible. Suddenly he feels even worse.

He turns on the tap, relieved when water begins to spill into the basin. It’s a valuable resource on a ship when you have to draw it yourself and Zoro does not know who drew water this evening, or when or how much there is left. He doesn’t have the energy to draw more. So he shoves both hands under the water, ready to wash his face and rinse his mouth.

Then stops. Pulls his hand back. Stares and blinks a bit just in case his vision is still wobbly from the coughing fit earlier.

But it’s not. There, in his hand is something that looks suspiciously like the misshapen bud of a plant.

He had assumed that everything exiting his mouth this evening had been something he had put into it. The shitty cook has been known to use decorative flowers before, especially for Nami’s meals but Zoro does not remember him placing anything like this on the table and though he wouldn’t put it past Usopp or Luffy to try to put things in his mouth while he is sleeping, he thinks he would notice if they did that.

(He hasn’t napped around them properly in days. He hasn’t been able to let his guard down. Luffy needs somebody strong for his crew. That is the role that Zoro has taken. He can’t know that his swordsman is weak.)

The thought has another cough bursting from his lips. He has just enough presence of mind to turn the tap off before he’s leaning over the sink. He grips the sides of it with white knuckles as he hacks up something else, the feeling of it in the back of his throat making his already abused stomach lurch. The inside of his throat is raw. Each breath in wheezes. His eyes sting and water. His mouth tastes like metal.

When it’s finally over, he rests his forehead against the coolness of the mirror and simply breathes. Then he blinks away the blurriness and forces his eyes back into focus.

There, in the sink, are two more of the same strange buds. These ones are stained red with his blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As always, any comments are appreciated from 'Hi, I read this,' to constructive criticism. It all inspires me to keep going.


End file.
